Beautiful
by kasumi18
Summary: Sakura goes to help Ino, but not without being bashed and insulted. In a bad mood, she ends up returning home to Gaara and he thinks he can fix it. GaaSaku


WARNING: THIS FIC MAY CAUSE THINGS THAT MAKE YOUR VAGINA TINGLE. THIS IS CALLED GETTING _EXCITED._ YOU MAY COME AFTERWARDS. IT'S NORMAL.

But, hey, if you don't _like_ to come (you freak), then I suggest you head back now.

This fic is based off of an _amazing_ Gaara I roleplay with, Kodu. You'll find her here, on ffn, under the name Kodukadvakch--WAIT WAIT I THINK SHE CHANGED IT. IT'S Malakakane NOW, I'M PRETTY SURE. One of those two. If you clicked my fic because you like GaaSaku, head over there. The story is in my favorite stories, and I'm pretty sure she's in my favorite authors, so if the search is being a fucker like usual, just look it up there.

Midnight Tears, her fic, is amazing. Go. Read. Now. REVEL IN THAT WHICH IS GAASAKU GOODNESS.

(This fic was beta'd by my dear, dear friend, Swiss. I love her. You should love her too. She turned crap into AMAZING.)

Okay, I'm shutting up, you can read now.

* * *

She was tired.

All night had she been at Ino's. Now, don't get her wrong, she loved Ino. Ino was her best friend, and while the two girls had a fancy for calling each other names and being down-right rude to one another, their friendship wasn't rivaled by many.

Tonight, however, Ino had succeeded in one thing and one thing only. Pissing. Sakura. Off.

She ranted for hours and hours about her date. (With Kankurou, actually. She had been playing hard to get with him for a while, now, and Sakura wasn't surprised when she had suddenly been called upon to go closet raiding with Ino. The Kunoichi, who had made a trip to Suna just for the occasion, had brought her entire wardrobe with her, and dragged Sakura out of her house on her _day off _just so she would look picture-perfect for doll-boy come tomorrow night.)

Sakura had no problem with helping out a friend. Really, she didn't. But when a night of her _trying_ to get her friend settled into a proper outfit turns into said friend _reaming_ on her for her appearance, Sakura would no longer feel so inclined to help.

Which is how Ino ended up having all her clothes ripped up when she went to the bathroom, with only a five-sizes-too-big puke-green sweater (with a Santa Clause stitched in), neon-pink fishnet tights, and a pair of blue plat-form flip-flops remaining.

And Sakura long, long gone.

She knew it wasn't the nicest thing in the world to do, but Ino had deserved it. Unless she had been foolish enough not to bring a single cent with her, she could always buy new clothes before tomorrow--and besides, this appeased Sakura's rage. She could only assume her friend would rather have a broken wardrobe than a broken face.

Although the irony of the latter would be deliciously sweet.

'Your forehead is bigger than a _billboard_! You have _no_ breasts! Your thighs are too fat! You have Cankles! Does your butt _exist_? What the hell are you _wearing_--red does not go with pink!'

Every time Sakura had given her constructive criticism about what she was wearing, she got one of those insults thrown at her.

And she was none-too-happy about it.

Sighing, Sakura walked up the steps of the Kazekage mansion, taking the key out of her pouch and unlocking the door. She crossed over the threshold, the door swinging shut behind her.

"Gaara? I'm home."

Silence.

She smiled to herself, leaving her shoes near the door and taking a few steps into the mansion, turning right at the hall and heading all the way for the room at the end. She gripped the cold metal of the door knob and twisted it slowly, peeking inside.

It was obvious that if Gaara was, indeed, inside the room, that her taking precaution while opening the door wasn't going to make him any less aware of her presence. However, she knew that if she didn't make too much noise then he wouldn't bother looking over at her, and she would be able to see what he had been doing while she was out.

And she found him staring blankly through the glass of the balcony door, up at the moon.

She laughed quietly to herself. Why was she surprised?

She opened the door and made her way into the room, dropping her weapon pouch onto her desk. "I'm home."

Gaara's eyes trailed over to her, his body unmoving, and he looked back up at the sky, paying her no more attention. "Mm."

She pulled out the stool that she, really, did not like, (It was sturdy and reliable, but it was uncomfortable, and more often than not it made her butt hurt) and she took off her shirt, preparing to get ready for bed.

And that was when she took a long, hard stare into her mirror.

Her hand trailed across her face, outlining her lips, her nose...her forehead. She looked down, her pink lace bra outlining barely-B sized breasts. Everything that Ino said, although hurtful...was true, wasn't it?

"...Gaara."

"Mm?"

"...I'm...rather ugly, aren't I?"

Now, that caught his attention. He turned to look at her, (he even moved his head and _everything_!) eyes cool and calculating, roaming over her form. She didn't want to look at him--not directly, at least--so she settled for glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

She could see him doing the same.

"Uh...nevermind, Gaara. Stupid question."

She looked down at the desk, unlatching her bra from the back, about to let it slide off her shoulders--but she didn't get the chance.

Gaara let his hand fall from its position on his knee, pushing off the ground and standing at full height. He walked over to her, completely silent, footsteps not making a single sound, and he knew that she couldn't hear him--much less see him, with her gaze so fully focused on her desk.

His head brushed against hers, resting on her shoulder, and he nuzzled against it in an almost-affectionate manner. She was...cold. Extremely so, and it almost made him want to jerk away at touching her.

_Almost_.

His fingers grazed across the skin of her stomach, rubbing slightly, and she looked back at him, surprised and somewhat embarrassed.

"Gaara?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and hovered over her shoulder, breathing down on her neck. She jumped--slightly surprised--but he paid no mind and darted out his tongue, tracing slow, circular patterns on her skin.

"Ah--" She stifled the moan rising in her throat, covering it with a few coughs, eyes searching Gaara's face for an answer to why he was doing it--in the mirror, of course, seeing as though she didn't have eyes in the back of her head. "Gaara--what are you _doing_?"

Again, he ignored her, planting a kiss at the base of her neck.

...Before sinking his teeth into the same spot.

She yelped in surprise, kicking by reflex and having her knee slam into the desk, her cosmetics toppling over, some falling to the floor and shattering.

Gaara didn't stop there, though, and he bit down harder, not caring for what was under there--veins, bone, muscle--it made no difference.

"_Gaara_! Stop! That--_ah_--Gaara, that _hurts_!"

She struggled best she could, trying to pry his hand off of her stomach and jerking her head away from his head, but those attempts were easily taken care off--she felt sand slinking up her calves, and she _saw_ them wrap around her arms, holding her steadily in place.

His fingers stopped their motion on her stomach, suddenly tensing and digging their nails in--and he could _feel_ it. He could feel the skin begin to rip, and the small beads of blood dripping out into the underneath of his fingernails...

He shuddered against her, while Sakura could do nothing but cringe from the pain.

And then, he tore his head back. Sakura cried out--he had torn the skin of her neck, leaving a long, gushing gash behind. The blood was seeping out, hot against her skin--making it _burn_. It traveled down her back, her arm, outlining her collarbone and dripping down the inside of her bra.

For a second, Sakura could swear she saw him smile.

He let his hand rise from her stomach and onto her shoulder, leaning down so far he could reach the end of the stream trailing down her back, letting his tongue slide to the source, reveling in the shudders wracking Sakura's body.

She wasn't afraid. He could smell it. She was _angry._

"Gaara--_why_."

It had not been the first time he had done something like this, and Sakura would have been stupid to assume it would be the last, but it didn't make her any less _furious._ She was upset--she had been emotionally hit over the head with a shovel _dozens_ of times, and his solution was--

"Because you called yourself ugly."

--_this._

"And this is supposed to comfort me _how_, exactly?"

"Because," he started, running his tongue from the wound to the lobe of her ear, sucking lightly and leaving a red trail behind. "You are beautiful..."

He whispered it, and she almost shivered from the feeling of his breath against her ear.

"...When you're bleeding."

She froze.

She did not expect that. Nor did she _want_ that. She had wanted an emotional pick-me-up, and those words were _definitely_ not part of the compliments she wanted but--

She smiled slightly.

Unwanted or not, they were from Gaara, and they were something he truly felt--and _that_ meant a lot more to her than a simple, shallow compliment would have.

(...Even if it meant he got turned on by her bleeding.)

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